Ezra's Duel with Danger Read online

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  All rights reserved. Published by Disney • Lucasfilm Press, an imprint of Disney Book Group. No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, or by any information storage and retrieval system, without written permission from the publisher. For information address Disney • Lucasfilm Press, 1101 Flower Street, Glendale, California 91201.

  ISBN 978-1-4847-0618-3

  Visit the official Star Wars website: www.starwars.com

  Contents

  Part 1: Empire Day Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Part 2: Enlightenment Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Chapter 12

  About the Author

  “Step outside of yourself,” Kanan Jarrus said. “Make a connection with another being.”

  Ezra stood with Kanan in a field outside Old Jho’s Pit Stop, a remote repair facility where his friends had landed their star freighter, the Ghost. A few mechanics wandered around the yard, but Ezra’s friends hadn’t gone there for maintenance on their ship. The pit stop’s main attraction was a cantina where Old Jho served drinks. Nowhere else on Lothal could you enjoy refreshments while your vehicle’s power converters were being changed.

  Hera, the Ghost’s Twi’lek pilot, had gone inside the cantina with Zeb, the burly Lasat who was Ezra’s friendly nemesis, and Sabine, the gutsy artist who was the most colorful member of the crew. Ezra wished he could’ve joined them. He longed for an ice-cold fizzy that he could sip in a dark corner away from everyone else. Today was a day he’d just as soon fast-forward and forget.

  “Can we do this another day?” Ezra asked.

  “We can do it now.” Kanan held a rock in his hand. “Focus.”

  Ezra huffed. The sooner this stupid training session was over, the sooner he could get away from everyone. “Just throw the rock, will you?”

  Kanan tossed the rock into a patch of weeds. A wild Loth-cat jumped out, snarling and hissing, in defense of his territory.

  “I don’t think he wants to connect,” Ezra said.

  “You’re resisting. He can sense it,” Kanan said.

  “He can sense it? What is he, like a Padawan cat?”

  As if it understood, the Loth-cat pounced at Ezra. It was a ferocious little feline, all tooth and claw. Ezra tussled with the beast, trying to avoid being bitten or scratched.

  “You don’t seem to be getting this,” Kanan said.

  “I get that this furball is trying to kill me!” With great effort, Ezra shoved the Loth-cat off him into the dirt. “Now give me your lightsaber and I’ll make the connection you want.”

  Kanan gave Ezra a stare that would make a Hutt feel guilty. “Excuse me?”

  Ezra swallowed. One thing he’d learned was that sarcasm wasn’t part of the Jedi Code. “I just don’t see the point of this.”

  “The point is that you’re not alone. You’re connected to every living thing in the universe. But to discover that, you have to let your guard down. You have to be willing to attach to others.” Kanan waved a finger and smiled at the Loth-cat. Within seconds the beast was purring at his feet. Kanan made it appear so easy.

  Ezra looked away, resigned. “Then maybe I’ll never be a Jedi.”

  Kanan turned to Ezra. “Kid, whatever’s going on with you, you need to spill it.”

  Spill it. That was Kanan and Hera’s jargon for revealing what troubled them, so that another person could offer support. But Ezra’s problem couldn’t be solved by talking because there wasn’t a solution to Ezra’s problem.

  “I’m sorry, Kanan. I don’t mean to wear you out. Today’s just not a good day,” Ezra said.

  “Today?”

  Ezra grunted. “Empire Day.”

  As if on cue, a squadron of Imperial TIE fighters shrieked through the sky. Three of the hexagonal-winged starfighters broke from formation to land at the pit stop. The black-suited pilots climbed out from the TIEs’ eyeball-shaped cockpits.

  “What are so many TIEs doing out this far?” Ezra asked.

  “Nothing good. Come on,” Kanan said.

  They followed the three TIE pilots into the crowded cantina. Humans, humanoids, and even droids packed the booths. Unlike some people, Old Jho didn’t discriminate. As long as one had credits to spare, he’d serve whatever a customer wanted, whether it was bantha milk or lubricator fluid.

  Kanan led Ezra to the counter. The Ghost’s crew members were regulars there and Old Jho immediately filled two cups. Glancing around, Ezra saw that Hera and Zeb occupied a booth behind a pebble-skinned Rodian who was slurping spicebrew. Sabine stood beside them, wearing her Mandalorian armor, though she’d left her helmet behind on the Ghost.

  The Imperials didn’t head to the bar. They scanned the crowd, and the pilot who appeared to be the leader waved his two comrades toward the Rodian’s table. The two wrenched the Rodian to his feet while their leader activated a datapad. A mug shot of a Rodian appeared on the screen.

  Ezra blinked, recognizing the Rodian on the datapad. “Tseebo.”

  “What?” Kanan asked.

  “Nothing,” Ezra said. He had done all he could to bury that part of his past. He was not going to start digging it up now.

  The lead pilot compared the datapad’s mug shot with the face of the captive Rodian. “He’s not the one,” the pilot said, grunting with disappointment. He pocketed the datapad while the other pilots shoved the Rodian back in his seat. Then the three Imperials went to the bar, where the lead pilot banged his fist. “The Imperial Holonet should play here at all times. It’s the law.”

  Old Jho flipped a switch, powering a holoprojector over the bar. It displayed the insignia of the Empire, before cutting to the well-groomed Alton Kastle, anchor for Imperial Holonews.

  “Today is Empire Day,” Kastle said, “celebrating the fifteenth anniversary of the galaxy’s salvation, when our great Emperor Palpatine ended the Clone Wars and founded our glorious Empire.”

  The lead pilot lifted his drink and turned to the other patrons. “You heard the man! Raise your cups to the Emperor!”

  Few joined the pilot’s toast as the news broadcast began to ripple with static. “On Lothal, Governor Pryce has commissioned a parade—”

  Ezra smirked when Kastle’s image was replaced by that of an older, mustached man, who had made it his duty to interrupt these broadcasts. “Citizens, this is Senator-in-Exile Gall Trayvis. I bring more news the Empire doesn’t want you to hear. I urge you to boycott all Empire Day celebrations to protest the ongoing injustices of the Imperial regime.”

  The lead pilot banged his fist again. “Shut this off!”

  “Can’t,” Old Jho said. “It’s the law.”

  Aggravated, the lead pilot turned to his comrades. “We’re done here.”

  Ezra watched the Imperial pilots exit the cantina in disgust. A collective sigh of relief followed and all patrons returned to their refreshments. Old Jho switched off the holoprojector.

  Hera, Zeb, and Sabine rose from the table to join Ezra and Kanan at the bar. “TIE pilots on search patrols? What’s going on?” Kanan asked Old Jho.

  “Imperials have locked down the ports and put Destroyers in orbit. It’s a full planetary blockade.”

  Kanan glanced back at the spiny-headed customer who had been accosted. “They’re after a Rodian.”

  “Just be glad they’re not after us for once,” Sabine remarked.

  “With what we’ve got planned for today’s parade, they’ll
be after us again tomorrow,” Kanan said.

  “Well, you’re going to have to do it without me.” Ezra headed toward the exit.

  “Where do you think you’re going?” Kanan asked.

  “I just need some time alone. Today’s brought back some memories,” Ezra said.

  Thankfully, they left him alone as he hiked across the plains to the abandoned communications tower he called home. Once inside, he pulled out a dusty crate. He searched through the contents and retrieved a simple keycard.

  On Empire Day, he had a tradition of using this keycard to visit another place he had once called home. He had thought this year he was done with the tradition, that his new family had replaced his old one for good. As he looked at the keycard, he knew that wasn’t the case. His vision blurred from tears welling in his eyes. He did not wipe them away.

  “Ezra,” a woman, whose voice he hadn’t heard in a long, long time, said.

  “Mom?” He spun, looking around. The tower’s repair garage was empty. He was alone.

  “Ezra.” Now it was a man’s voice, one he knew simply as—

  “Dad?” He looked, but as before, there was no one. Was his mind playing tricks on him? Was he hearing ghosts?

  “Ezra, we have to stand up for people in need,” his father continued, “especially those in trouble with the Empire.”

  This wasn’t a trick, it was just a memory. His father had probably spoken those words when Ezra was younger, and now his conscience was reminding him.

  Tseebo. The Rodian was in trouble and needed his help.

  Parades were one thing the Empire did well, Kanan had to admit. From the corner of an alley, he and Hera watched an impressive display of stormtroopers, cadets, and vehicles march down the main boulevard of Capital City toward the Imperial complex. Fortunately, the grand spectacle didn’t persuade the local citizens to forget the evils of the Empire. The small crowds who had come out for the event had to be prodded by Taskmaster Grint to cheer.

  On a stage before the complex, Minister Maketh Tua addressed those in attendance. “Lothal is just as important to our Empire as any world in the galaxy. And Governor Pryce wanted me to show you why.”

  Behind her, the complex’s hangar doors opened. A repulsorlift platform floated forward, carrying a modified TIE fighter, which had smaller, curved wings instead of the usual flat design.

  “Citizens, I present you with the latest vessel from Lothal’s Imperial shipyards. Sienar Fleet Systems’ advanced TIE starfighter!”

  Kanan joined the crowds in giving polite applause. “Pretty, isn’t it?”

  “Yeah,” Hera said. “Almost feel bad about blowing it up.”

  They split, with Hera going to prep the Ghost and pick them up at the rendezvous point. Kanan went in the other direction, snaking through the crowds toward the complex. Suddenly loud, colorful fireworks lit up the sky, a clever distraction provided by Sabine and Zeb. Kanan slipped beneath the repulsorlift platform that held the TIE. He quickly planted another one of Sabine’s customized thermal detonators on the platform’s underside.

  Unfortunately, the fireworks hadn’t distracted everyone. “You there!” shouted a stormtrooper commander. “This area’s off-limits!”

  Kanan pretended to be awed by the firework blasts. “Beautiful, isn’t it? All the colors. It’s like a rainbow.”

  This stormtrooper wouldn’t be fooled. He reached for his gun, until a human boy slid next to Kanan. “Dad, what are you doing?” Ezra asked, then turned to the stormtrooper. “Sorry, mister, my dad’s just so patriotic, you know.”

  “Empire Day! I love it! All hail our glorious Empire!” Kanan lied, faking a smile.

  The stormtrooper commander looked at both of them, though it was impossible to read his face under his helmet. At last, he gestured. “All right, well, move along!”

  Kanan and Ezra didn’t have to be told twice. They waded back into the crowd. “Thanks,” Kanan said. “Where’ve you been?”

  “Making connections,” Ezra said, as if he’d been following Kanan’s lesson all along. “How’s the plan going?”

  This time Kanan’s smile wasn’t fake. “Just watch.”

  The repulsorlift platform behind them suddenly exploded, accompanied by flashes of color and streaming ribbons of sparks, flipping over the advanced TIE. The craft crashed into the stage and sent Minister Tua and other Imperial leaders flying into the air.

  Chaos seized the Imperial ranks. Officers started barking conflicting orders. Stormtroopers rushed about in confusion. But most satisfying for Kanan was spotting the ghoulish figure in the dark flight suit who emerged from the smoldering TIE.

  The Inquisitor fumed in rage over the wreckage of his starfighter.

  Imperials might put on a good parade, Kanan mused as Sabine and Zeb rejoined them, but the rebels put on a better show.

  The chaos didn’t last long. The Imperials ordered a citywide lockdown. Air traffic was prohibited, preventing Hera from bringing the Ghost to the rendezvous point. With more and more stormtroopers pouring into the streets by the minute, the rebels would be caught soon if they didn’t find a good place to hide.

  Ezra knew of a place. It wouldn’t fit broad-shouldered Zeb, but the Lasat said he could hide in the Old Market, where he would blend in around the other nonhumans.

  “We’ll signal a new rendezvous when we can,” Kanan said. The brawny Lasat slung his bo-rifle over his back and climbed over the alley wall.

  “Follow me,” Ezra said to Kanan and Sabine. He yanked open a sewer grate and dropped down, leading them through a hidden ventilation shaft. It felt like old times again, when he used to make quick getaways after stealing mealpacks from Supply Master Lyste’s trucks.

  He had them climb out in front of a habitation unit. A red Imperial insignia fastened to its door declared the place off-limits.

  Ezra surprised Kannan by inserting a keycard into the door lock. It clicked open.

  “You were coming here today,” Kanan said, giving Ezra a knowing look. “This was your home, wasn’t it? Where you grew up.”

  “I grew up on the streets,” Ezra said, correcting him. “Alone.” Ezra pushed the door open and entered.

  Dim light shone in from the street through the cracks in the boarded-up windows. The place was practically empty, as thieves had plundered anything of value years ago.

  “Then why are we here?” Sabine asked, taking off her helmet. “Why now?”

  “I had a feeling,” Ezra said, letting his words linger. He crossed the room and pulled up a trapdoor in the floor. “Tseebo?” he called down. “It’s me, Ezra Bridger.”

  After a moment, a green-skinned Rodian clambered out, muttering in Huttese. The back of his spiny head was stitched with circuitry.

  “That’s the Rodian the Imperials are hunting,” Kanan said. “You know him?”

  “Name’s Tseebo. A friend of my parents.” Ezra watched Tseebo bumble about with no sense of direction. “But something’s wrong. What’s that thing on his head?”

  Sabine held Tseebo in place so she could examine the tech. “The Empire’s been known to implant lower-level technicians with cybernetic circuits. Personality sacrificed for productivity.”

  “Tseebo’s productivity is ninety percent higher than average Imperial data worker,” Tseebo blurted out robotically.

  “Tseebo went to work for the Imperial information office after the Empire took my parents away,” Ezra said.

  “Your parents?” Kanan asked, surprised. “You never told us.”

  “What’s to tell? They’ve been gone for eight years.” Ezra flicked a finger at Tseebo’s headgear. The Rodian didn’t react at all from his touch. “I’ve been on my own since I was seven.”

  Tseebo started speaking again in Huttese. Kanan turned to Sabine. “What’s he saying?” She was the only one who understood the Hutt language, thanks to her Mandalorian education.

  Sabine listened, her eyes widening. “He’s detailing Imperial fighter deployments on Lothal!”


  Kanan grew excited. “Can you access it?”

  While Kanan helped Sabine hack into Tseebo’s headgear, Ezra climbed down through the trapdoor. Tseebo cocked his head in Ezra’s direction, as if just realizing who he was.

  “Ezra Bridger. Son of Ephraim and Mira Bridger. Born fifteen years ago today,” Tseebo stated.

  Ezra ignored him and dropped off the ladder into the secret room. But he could still hear Sabine’s muffled voice. “Empire Day…it’s Ezra’s birthday,” she said.

  Ezra winced. So now they knew his little secret. His curse. Of all the days to be born, his was the day the Empire came into being—“a Galactic Empire to last ten thousand years,” its Emperor had declared. And as Ezra had grown, so had the Empire, conquering system after system over the last fourteen years, taking everything he loved in the process.

  He’d never be able to change his birth date, but one day he’d like to celebrate it without being reminded it was also “Empire Day.”

  He turned on the lights. The small room was bare except for an antiquated holonet console. When he powered it on, the console made a grinding sound and ejected a disk. He took the disk—and voices suddenly echoed in his mind.

  “Big risk you Bridgers take,” said a Rodian voice. “Tseebo say you must think of your son.”

  “He’s all we think about,” said Ezra’s father. “We’re teaching Ezra to stand up for people in need.”

  “We’re fighting for our son’s freedom,” said his mother.

  “Tseebo not fight battle Tseebo know cannot be won. Neither should Bridgers.”

  Ezra considered the holodisk as the voices faded. Could this conversation have actually happened between his parents and Tseebo—or was he making it up? Maybe he’d overheard it as a child and only understood it now. It was why he didn’t like coming home. Too many sad memories.

  A noise behind him made him turn. Sabine stood near the ladder. “What’s with the old disk?”